Red Blue No, Red!
by JeanTre16
Summary: D'Artagnan and Jacqueline take a shopping excursion. But can they solve one dilemma without creating more? An adapted excerpt from In-between the Lines, another JeanTre16 fanfic.


**Red. Blue. No, Red!**

An adapted excerpt from _In-between the Lines_ , another fanfic

by JeanTre16

"I don't know how I let you talk me into this." Jacqueline exasperated as d'Artagnan and she walked among the shops of Paris. Outwardly, she wore her musketeer gray and blue uniform like her comrade; inwardly, she wore thin on patience over the situation she was in.

It all started when her flirtatious comrade unscrupulously solicited a wash maid's attention, then, unable to shake her off his tail, he told her he was going on a mission, far away. The problem was that he was not going anywhere; his plan was to avoid her. Inevitably, they ran into her at the laundry house, and that's where Jacqueline's problems began. Feeling sorry for the laundress, due to her comrade's rudeness, Jacqueline, as Jacques Leponte, intervened to soften the girl's disappointment. Now, the clinging wash maid was all but insisting she was marrying Leponte – a most uncomfortable situation for a woman posing as a man in 17th Century France.

With the situation out of control, d'Artagnan suggested that Jacqueline buy yet another disguise, making herself the fiancée of her counter self. His plan was for her to tell the wash maid that Leponte was engaged to her and therefore could no longer see her. Permitting d'Artagnan to talk her into it, there they were, walking the cobblestone streets, shopping for the right disguise.

"You don't have to go through with this." Her lively companion rattled her. "If you'd rather spend your afternoon with Mireille, just let me know and we can head back to the garrison."

"No." She rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "Let's get this over with."

"All right, then," he said. He gave her an appropriate male-to-male thump on the back. "First, let's start with your dress. Shall we?" Beaming with a happy grin, he gestured her in the direction of the dressmaker's shop.

Jacqueline loathed it when he treated her like a man, while teasing her as a female. Besides that, she thought he was showing a little too much enthusiasm at her misadventure. After all, it was his fault in the first place that this was even happening, she surmised. Begrudgingly, she bit her tongue and followed.

Coming up next to where her comrade stood, the woman in the façade of a man took in the view of the dress-shop window. Her eyes scanned the options and came to rest upon a lovely blue dress.

She was about to say something when d'Artagnan interjected. "Red. Definitely the red one." He never noticed her giving him a bewildered look because he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the shop.

Being greeted by the familiar dressmaker's daughter, d'Artagnan dipped his head. "Mademoiselle," he said. He took her hand and kissed it with civility.

Unnoticed by either the woman or the man, Jacqueline rolled her eyes and shook her head at her comrade's smoothness.

The young dressmaker blushed. "D'Artagnan, isn't it?" she asked.

"You have a good memory, Mademoiselle. It's been some time since I've been this way." He pleasantly smiled.

"Well, yes," the young seamstress shyly replied. Then, noticing his quiet companion, she politely curtsied. "Monsieur…" She laughed lightly with embarrassment and looked back at d'Artagnan. "I'm afraid I can't quite recall your friend's name."

"Leponte." Jacqueline spoke up candidly for herself. She had seen enough of her comrade's interplay with the young woman and wanted very much to get on with the business they had come for. "Actually, we're here today to buy that blue dress for my sister." With a pretend, gentlemanly smile, Jacques pointed to the bust in the window.

D'Artagnan frowned and interjected his correction. "You mean the red dress…for your sister." He ended his statement by glaring at Jacqueline to overrule her. Then he turned to the dressmaker's daughter. "Don't you think the red dress would make a more lasting impression than the blue one?"

"Monsieur d'Artagnan..." The dressmaker paused, as if wondering how to please both of her disagreeing customers and still make the sale. "The blue dress is lovely…" She smiled warmly toward Jacques, who grinned at her opposing companion in triumph. "Yet," she added, "if your sister desires to make a lasting impression, I'm afraid I'd have to agree with d'Artagnan. Definitely the red one."

Now it was the man's turn to gloat and his companion's turn to pout. Jacqueline looked at both sets of eyes resting on her and caved in. "All right, then we'll take the red one," she consented. It really didn't matter to her anyway. There were no real plans for the dress other than ridding herself of the overbearing wash maid.

D'Artagnan quickly produced his money pouch and nobly offered to pay. "The honor is mine. I'll take care of this." And while Jacqueline steamed in the awkwardness of the moment, her male friend paid for her dress.

With the brilliant red gown packaged up, the two Musketeers proceeded toward their next acquisition—a wig. Both agreed that Jacqueline's natural hair would be too dangerous to expose along with any dress in public. Arriving at the wig maker's store, the two, once again, scanned their choices through the window.

"How about the red one?" d'Artagnan said. He turned to Jacqueline with a grin and flickering brows.

She shook her head, yet again, at his over enthusiasm in helping her create a disguise. In her opinion, he was enjoying this way too much. Leaving him standing outside the shop, she quickly went in before he could take charge of this shop owner like he had the dressmaker. With great purpose, Jacques Leponte approached the wig maker and asked to have the blond wig in the window boxed up for him.

Walking in on the tail-end of the transaction, d'Artagnan's only response was to appear speechless. "Well, blond is a nice color," he said, "although it's not my favorite."

Jacqueline didn't want to ask what his favorite hair color was, fearing it might be red as well. This was not for his benefit anyhow. She quickly paid for the wig, thanked the vendor, and left the shop.

Running after her to keep up, d'Artagnan prodded. "Is there anything else a woman might need that we could pick up? This is actually quite fun."

To that, Jacqueline turned to him and shoved the wig box into his one free hand — he already had the package with the red dress under the other arm — and left him standing there with a 'What did I say?' look on his face.


End file.
